A Dawning Realization
by When-Shadows-Dance
Summary: Remus Lupin has just lost his closest friend, Sirius Black, and long ago said good-bye to those others he had loved, such as James and Lily Potter. Now, it seems, that there is nothing left for him. He has lost everything he had once lived for. Thus, in m


**Title: **A Dawning Realization

**Summary: **Remus Lupin has just lost his closest friend, Sirius Black, and long ago said good-bye to those others he had loved, such as James and Lily Potter. Now, it seems, that there is nothing left for him. He has lost everything he had once lived for. Thus, in mourning, he turns to vile words and remorseful thoughts to calm his spirit- until someone leads him to a dawning realization. Lupin/Tonks.

**Rating:** PG-13 for mild language and dark plot. I'm sure the rating will stay moderately the same each chapter, unless language gets violent and increases/worsens.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything remotely related to Harry Potter. That, sadly, is all J.K Rowling's genius and I literally bow down at her feet for such amazing ideas and concepts. I do, however, own my love for the wonderful, magical scheme and my ability as a writer- so please, do not steal any of my original ideas or segments or scenarios without permission. It just takes the fun out of everything, really.

**Author's Notes:** I've gone to the dark side. gasp I've shipped Lupin/Tonks. I know, I know, throw rocks at me and beat me with wooden clubs. I swore that I'd never, ever write a fluffy fic that included my brilliant, brilliant Remus. But alas, the temptation has gotten to me. I have let you all down. silence Oh well. Enjoy! And, ah yes, Remus has a little bit of an aggression problem during the first few chapters, he's sort of PMS-ey-ish and such. Great fun to write. If you don't like the change of character, you can kiss mine. Thanks.

* * *

Six hours, five Firewhiskey, four sporadic scenes of sobbing, three solid moments of wondering why he hadn't been the one taken, two meaningless thought conversation's with his conscience of what had really led him to the point in his life he was at now, and one horrifying, soul-shattering event later equaled nothing more than one very drunken, very remorseful, and very disoriented werewolf; sitting alone in the corner booth of a small London Pub, sipping slowly on another round of alcohol, and sighing softly to relieve his chest of the abominable pain.

It hurt so very much, but no more than he had expected it would, and the feeling itself was indescribable; as if someone had wrenched open your chest, torn your heart from within you, thrown it onto the dank floor and proceeded to stomp on it obnoxiously. Okay, so it wasn't the best analogy in the entire wizarding world, but at the moment it was all he could come up with- and it wasn't bad for a drunken stab at creating a timeless quotation of literature.

He knew, sooner or later, he'd have to drag his sorry behind back to Grimmauld Place and attempt to mumble a few good excuses as to where he was so late at night. Molly would probably have him explain how he had managed to charm the bars off his window also. Ah yes, now there was something to complain about again. The fact that the entire Order had seemingly put Remus on suicide watch, as if he had lost every shred of humanity he had left within him, and as though every fleeting notion of a sane mind had passed him.

Truthfully, he found both those ideas probable, but the Order had gone to drastic extents to make sure nothing happened; removing all cloth or rope-like material from his room, excluding the bed sheet, which was magically configured to not rip or twist into any shape, getting rid of all blunt or sharp objects, removing his mirror and adjusting his glass window to that of permanently sealed plexi-glass, making sure his Floo transport was inaccessible, and they even conjured bars for the windows. Well, Remus, nearing complete madness and sick of feeling like a convict, had found what little resources they had left him with were useful- as they had permitted his many ancient books to be stored in a pile next to his cot. Inside these books he had managed to smuggle many a good thing's, including a few galleons and pounds, as well as his wand. Therefore, he managed to sneak out using an excerpted spell from a tutorial text, and then levitated himself to the ground with the use of a charmed floatation chant. Once again, Remus Lupin outsmarted all.

Yet, not even the notion that he was more brilliant than the others helped to raise his spirits, and he found himself silently pondering as to how much Sirius would have enjoyed such a tale. He had always been one for extreme adventure, and loved everything and anything to do with senseless risk and consequence. The idea of going against all the rules, overcoming every odd, and retaliating against conformed groups would have been something of a game to the youthful man. Remus would have enjoyed seeing the way his chocolate orbs would have sparkled with an inward gleam of mischievousness when he retold the tale, with somewhat increased fortitude and dramatics, and Sirius would have indeed begged that next time his friend decided to partake in such adventures he should forthwith inform him so he could dutifully make sure nothing happened- and make sure he didn't miss out on any of the sporadic, spontaneous fun.

But now, there would be no more such events, as Sirius Black was lost from him forever; and not even he, the greatly intellectual Remus Lupin, past Professor of all things Dark Arts, knew how to get him back. The mere thought made him suppress another choking, throbbing sensation deep within his throat, as he threw his head back and downed the glass of muggle rum in front of him- placing the mug back down with a rough force that rattled the oaken surface and stirred within him a terrible migraine. A groan escaped his drying lips, and he placed his head down in his hands, allowing them to move first over his eyes and then continue to run through his hair. His graying hair, his weather faced, his tired, languid eyes. He was getting old, and the previous incident had aged him far beyond measure.

The only thing that had kept him young these days was Sirius, who had been his only friend left in existence. First James and Lily, then Peter, now Sirius. All of them, with the ease that one would flick on and off a light switch, were taken from him. James and Lily were murdered senselessly, Peter betrayed him and was better-off gone, but Sirius, who had been like a brother to him, was pulled into a world beyond all comprehension; never to return. Now, Remus was sure, he'd live out the rest of his days as a lonesome man, perhaps returning to solidarity, until he slowly passed away himself. Then, he knew, he'd be truly happy.

"Oi, wotcher Remus, I've been looking all over for you."

A voice derailed his train of miserable thought, and he glanced up to the figure standing in front of him, squinting his bloodshot eyes as the few shreds of light from the above chandeliers pierced his pupils painfully- Nymphadora Tonks. How wonderful. He was drunken, sorrowful, in pain, and the Order had sent this foolish girl to take care of him? That was the last thing he needed.

Actually, it was funny he hadn't heard Nymphadora approaching his table before she spoke. Usually she would introduce her advance on a certain area by inducing a chain reaction of falls, tips, and tumbles which resulted in knocking over objects like coat racks, chairs, pottery, and sometimes even people who were harmlessly in her path of action.

Groaning again, he returned her chipper announcement by putting his head down onto the table's surface and covering it with his gangly arms; hoping his little shroud would inform her that he did not want to be disturb and persuade her to leave and get someone more fitting for the matter at hand, perhaps Kingsley Shaklebolt, who would absolutely scare the wits out of him and indeed send him running back to Grimmauld place that very instant.

Instead she didn't budge, but placed her hands onto her hips in a dissatisfied manner and snorted haughtily, narrowing her now cerulean eyes at the stubborn man, "Remus, the entire Order's worried sick about you and it'd be best if you came with me."

"Or what," Remus mumbled, face still down, so the words came out in barely audible mumbles to the woman's ears- although he was too drunk to notice, or to care for that matter, "You'll cage me in my room? Put bars on my window's? Surround the premise with Order Member's on constant watch of my actions? On second though, no thank-you, I'd like to stay exactly where I am. Really."

"None of that was my fault you know," Tonks replied, tucking a stray strand of today's blonde lock's, handing loosely on her shoulders, behind her delicate ear. After speaking, she slid into the booth next to him, hoping this would in fact give her a better placement to deal with the scenario.

He felt the weight shifting onto the leather padded seat, and instantly rose from his huddled position, propping his face up in his palm's and allowing his hazel eyes to float to her porcelain face, "Ah, I suppose not." Was all he returned to her, before an awkward silence shifted over them. Sighing, he leaned back into the seat and cocked a dark eyebrow, slurring roughly, "Want a drink? I think I'm gunna have another."

"No, you are not," Tonks argued, grabbing his hand with her own as it rose into the air to attract the table tender, she gradually swept his arm down onto the table- her grasp keeping it down. Childishly, he rose the opposite hand, which sent her leaning over his lap in attempt to straighten both of his arms. She managed, however, and pulled them both down; causing him to respond in a maddening squirming movement, which resulted in her beginning to giggle, and him becoming flustered and frustrated.

"Let go of me," He snapped harshly, eyes cast downwards, the beverage-filled stupor once lingering around him disappearing slightly.

Instantly, Nymphadora released her grip, and distinctly allowed her hands to fold and place themselves atop the table. Blushing a shade of crimson, she bit her lower lip in contained anxiety, and mumbled, "My apologies."

Remus, infuriated for his own reasons, said nothing. Perhaps it was because she had laughed, perhaps it was because she had found a time to be playful; as though she was happy, disregarding the thought that moments ago her cousin had died, that Sirius Black would never be returning to either of their sides. Perhaps it was a little bit of both things. Whatever it was, it caused Remus to become cold, almost vile in his tone and action.

Sitting up as straight as he could managed, Remus cleared his throat and stated smoothly, "I will not return with you, Nymphadora, and I will be forced to resort to terms of magic if you decide to go against my previous wishes and continue to pester me to accompany you. Instead, I desire for you to say nothing of this endeavor, and tell whoever sent you that you were unable to find me and that you checked this facility as so they should not return again." There was a pause in which he stared deeply out in front of him, as if her could no longer bear to allow his eyes to grace her; before he added sharply, as if talking to a student, a stone-cold, "Understood, Ms. Tonks?"

She simply nodded feebly, saying nothing at all, and slid out from her spot beside him. Standing up, she glanced at him one last time in a scornful manner, before turning abruptly and heading towards the door- nearly tripping over an empty barstool on her way out. Remus found it a shame that she didn't fall face first and brain herself on the dank floor of the pub, although he was sure it was the alcohol and remorse talking. This final death had seemingly turned him into a menacing bastard. Perhaps now he would actually be able to match conversation with Severus Snape without being verbally brutalized.

With another low moan of agony, he reached his hand into the air, snapped his fingers, and signaled to the petite, red-headed waitress in the corner that he'd have another round of his current choice of ale.

* * *

An hour later, Kingsley Shaklebolt was at Remus' side, obviously due to Nymphadora's ability to follow precise orders of instruction. The man grabbed a hold of the werewolf, managed to apparate both of them home while he violently thrashed in his arms, and locked Remus in his own quarters- promising the wonderful present of a group meeting the next morning, which most obviously meant they were all going to try to counsel him through the grief, help him get over his horrendous habits, and yell at him for being so irrationally moronic. It was then that Remus Lupin vowed never to speak to Nymphadora Tonks ever again.

Unless, of course, he really had to.


End file.
